Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Sudan and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Eddi Front to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by June of 44. All the underground hits.
All Kerrie Biddell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Das Ding record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Outsiders,
Drexciya,
Gang Gang Dance,
Chris & Cosey,
Curtis Mayfield,
Con Funk Shun,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Fuzztones,
Skriet,
Cybotron,
DJ Style,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
the Swans,
Jeru the Damaja,
Derrick Morgan,
Robert Wyatt,
Ronnie Foster,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fela Kuti,
Jeff Lynne,
Roxette,
Pantaleimon,
Arcadia,
Glenn Branca,
The Knickerbockers,
Niagra,
Crooked Eye,
Essential Logic,
Basic Channel,
Lungfish,
Roy Ayers,
Panda Bear,
ABBA,
the Bar-Kays,
Sun Ra,
Spandau Ballet,
Lower 48,
the Slits,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Patti Smith,
Ituana,
Gabor Szabo,
Terry Callier,
The Slits,
Joy Division,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sound Behaviour,
Faraquet,
Charles Mingus,
The Detroit Cobras,
Barry Ungar,
Robert Görl,
The Buckinghams,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
China Crisis,
Half Japanese,
Bizarre Inc.,
F. McDonald,
Minor Threat,
the Fania All-Stars,
Scrapy,
Morten Harket,
Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.